IsKah

Which Starfleet Engineer left LCARS Millenium installed? @Alieth is quite right, it is why it fails so often

You know, @Ian OConnor I think @Alieth would disagree that the Rhine is a tax hole

What is a Vulcan/Trill hybrid? @Toryn Raga speculates. I am leaning to Vill as it's simple.

I'm watching this go down like a slow-motion trainwreck. You can't do anything, but you can't look away either.

Alice is amazing to see her point of view while @Quentin Beck's quarters get invaded ((Quentin Beck's Quarters - USS Ronin)) Odd. Strangers in the room, though one scent was familiar; Alice had picked up on it a few times in the corridor outside when making her way to the medical lab, and once very recently near the hole in the wall where her Father retrieved food for her. The one with that scent was there again now, and they'd opened up another hole beside it and had not brought food for her. She did not approve. Leaping down from the top level of her tree, she padded towards Smelly and mrowled. They were next to the food dispenser, after all. Alice: <<Feed me, peasant.>> Stranger: She blehbleh hungry? Alice sat down expectantly in the spot where Smelly would have set their feet to climb out of the hole, a clear indication she was upset at not being fed. She glanced over her shoulder at the Stranger, her tail flicking in confirmation as she licked her chops. She also purred loudly. All of the traditional signals any hairless one should know for feeding. Smelly: Do you think blehblehblehblehbleh animal blehblehbleh person blehblehbleh? Stranger: :: shrugs :: Blehblehblehbleh. Blehblehbleh fur blehbleh. She's cute. :: bends down and strokes the cat :: Aren't you a nice girl. Oh. Ooooh! The one thing Alice loved more than food was attention. She purred loudly, raising her rear end and turning to press as much of herself against the Attention Giver's hand as possible, her tail curling around their wrist. She considered for a moment flopping onto the floor and rolling onto her back for belly rubs, but that seemed far too scandalous on a first meeting. Smelly made an ugly sound with an ugly look on their face. Smelly and Ugly: :: eugh :: Blehblehbleh. Bleh bleh holo-emitters ready? Attention Giver: Yes, blehblehblehblehbleh beta shift blehblehbleh. Blehblehbleh how you wanted. The Attention Giver stopped giving attention to her once Smelly and Ugly started talking again. Alice stretched out on the floor and flicked her tail in indignation, turning to face Smelly and Ugly and staring up at them, still waiting to be fed. Smelly and Ugly: :: devious :: Blehblehblehblehblehbleh. Blehbleh. Former Attention Giver: I don't think blehblehblehblehbleh. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh? I thought blehblehblehblehblehblehbleh good idea? Smelly and Ugly: Blehblehbleh you lack imagination blehbleh. Blehblehblehblehblehblehbleh no big deal. Blehblehblehblehbleh Luxa. Blehblehbleh kiss blehblehblehbleh Luxa blehbleh bare ass. Her ear flicked at the mention of Luxa, the other cat in Father's life. Alice had not met her yet, had only picked up her scent lingering on Father, and she was aghast that he would spend so much time with her and not Alice. Her purr grew lower in volume and intensity, though it was hardly a sign of approval. She licked the back of her paw and started to bathe herself. Former Attention Giver: True. Blehblehblehbleh. Smelly and Ugly: I hate him. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh terrified blehblehblehblehbleh never forget. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh Luxa blehblehblehbleh friends bleh capable bleh. Friends blehblehbleh know exist. Her ear flicked again at those first words - she had heard Father say them many times in their short time together, usually while he thought he was alone and usually while he was looking at a flat hairless one that was even more hairless than usual. Sometimes while talking to a different flat hairless one. Former Attention Giver: Blehblehblehbleh we're watching. Smelly and Ugly and Hateful: Blehblehbleh. Blehblehblehbleh greatest fears to life. :: looks to time on the replicator :: Bleh go blehblehbleh shift ends. Former Attention Giver and Smelly and Ugly and Hateful walked past her without offering any food and what little affection she might have felt for either dropped to nil. She stopped bathing herself, only partly done, pushing herself to stand and mrowling at them as they moved to the door. Smelly and Ugly and Hateful paused to look back into the room and made the same face Father made when looking at her, but it was smelly and ugly and hateful. Stopping in the middle of the room and sitting, she wound her tail around her feet, staring at Smelly and Ugly and Hateful. Her purr of annoyance deepened when she was left alone. Father would be hearing about this. Alice Ragamuffin Kitty and Quentin's Companion USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 as written by Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

This is the last time Is'Kah invites @TAma anywhere.

I think @VLen Kel needs to get out more.

Welcome to the fleet. I hope you have a great time here.

Here we have @TAma tying everything together for comedic gold. I love how @Quentin Beck and @Xiron helped bring this together.

This brought tears to my eyes. @Kirsty L. Carpenter is an amazing writer.

Don't drink anything while you read this by @Kirsty L. Carpenter

I love the detail that @Kirsty L. Carpenter put into this. Nothing like fighting in the Holodeck with iffy safeties. ((Kirsty & Teryn's Quarters, Deck 9, U.S.S. Ronin.)) Kirsty felt like she had just gotten to sleep, her body still getting used to the new sleeping arrangements, when a very odd Security Alert thrummed through her personal terminal. Odd in that it seemed to originate from Engineering. It seemed Ensign Is'Kah had been running a...fairly complex and fairly power-draining holoprogram. And for...quite a long time too. Repeatedly over hours and across ungodly times of night. For multiple days, or nights, rather. Like right now, in fact. Which is what triggered the security subroutine. It seemed one of the Assistant Chief's had clocked the program and the strain it was putting on ambient power cores and computational powers and set up a "dragnet" for it. But the only question that seemed to occur to Kirsty, standing in front of her personal terminal with a curious frown in her pajamas was... oO What the hell kinda program is this? Oo She decided she was going to find out for herself. ((A Short Time Later...)) ((Holodeck Main Level, Deck 7, U.S.S. Ronin.)) Kirsty only looked at the external terminal display of the deck for a bit. She couldn't really make heads or tails of it, but it seemed to be fluid to a degree. That was, at least, if the constantly ticking upward Level designations on the display were any indication. Anyone else might have gotten an Engineer, or maybe called for backup. But Kirsty only found herself more curious about what this could even be. And how much control Is'Kah seemed to have over the program itself. She would mark this later as the first of a few mistakes. She barrelled into the Holodeck into a brutally beautiful winter wonder-hellscape. Implacable stars and a harsh moonscape hung above an endless white waste, complete with howling winds and sharp, stinging particulates of snow and powder that instantly stung her frame and face. The wind itself seemed not to blow, but PULL, grasping her harshly and sending her skidding like a poorly flying bird into the nearest snowbank. She didn't even have the time to grasp the holo-arch, which disappeared almost as soon as she was cleared of it. One of the "physical conditions" of these high level holoprograms. She tried to call for it, but the snow and wind choked her voice back down her throat. She hadn't expected this. And further hadn't expected just how unforgiving the conditions around her seemed to gleefully be. oO What the hell...Oo She finally got herself back to her feet, using the stinging of her bare feet as a steadying point. She peered against the horizon. Tried to take it all, or as much as she could, in. No landmarks. No distinction between the geography either. There was just snow and wind and the burning stars above and now...movement. A hunched, darkened figure was looming toward her with the wind. Stretching and bending an impressive wingspan alongside its flattened, blocky frame. It didn't look like Is'Kah, but she had to take a chance...She started to raise her voice over the wind, cupping her hands across and around her mouth to raise her yell further. Carpenter: Is'Kah! THAT you!? The figure then SPRANG! Suddenly and violently. With enough ferocity that Kirsty lost her footing in the snow with an instinctive backstep. She sprawled backward, landing with an audible crunch and OOF as the figure sailed above her. Revealing the snarling teeth and antenna of an Andorian Ice Hunter. And the flashing ushann in each hand. Carpenter: whaaaa the h-h-hell?! She sputtered to the rapidly piling snow around her, but she scrambled, half flopped to her belly, trying to get eyes on the Andorian as quickly as possible. He had landed a lot better than she had. Rolling and pitching on his shoulder, leaving barely a ghost of a trail into the snow. Well-worn white-and-grey liveried medium armor protected his body from the elements, including a choice pair of boots and gloves Kirsty found herself intimately jealous of. Especially once she had gotten back to her feet, plunging her bare feet back into the snow almost to the ankle. The dual ushann ice-knives would protect him from everyone else. But higher level programs also hinted at lessened restrictions on safety protocols. Just what in the hell was Is'Kah playing at here?! The Andorian took one leaping step to the left, then another to the right and forward. Kirsty raised her arms, tightening her fists for likely heavy work. The Andorian's fists, wrapped tightly across the middle hafts of the ice-knives swept the right blade wildly. Kirsty took another unsteady step back, hating the way the snow was slowing her down. But then the Andorian made HIS first mistake, trying another glancing blow with the left blade, which hit nothing but the under part of his wrist against Kirsty's sharply upraised knee, jarring the knife in his grip. But nicking her upper thigh, sending a hot lancet of blood across the snow for their trouble. It was enough of an opening though, and Kirsty didn't hesitate. Knowing that the Holo Andorian likely wouldn't either. She lashed out violently, but with a feral focus. Driving her right fist flat against the Andorian's neck. One of the few unarmored points of his body, as most Ice Hunter armors don't have any ballistic underlays or neck scoops. The Ice Hunter's body jarred like his wrist had and normally she would have kept him jarred with a left hook, but her wobbly stance kept her from her usual one-two. Instead she took a page from the Andorian's book, springing her own frame into a bullet. Pointed to further drive the Ice Hunter from his feet and away from using those ushann. They both tumbled into the snow, limbs akimbo, but Kirsty's shoulder thumped against something hard in the snow. She snaked her hands after it, whatever it was. The Ice Hunter roared just feet away. His voice eerily joining the howl of the wind and a ghoulish churning sound of the snow around his whipping frame. He barreled toward her, looking like a deadly plow, parting the snow around his rage. Kirsty gripped the haft in her dominant hand, brought it up blindly but surely, bringing up a spreading curtain of snow along with...the upturned bottom of a LIRPA?! The heavy block of weighted metal sunk heavy and true against the side of the Ice Hunter's skull. Sending him flinging like a puppet with his strings cut into the snow bank to the left of their erstwhile battleground.She turned the Vulcan weapon in her hand, blade up toward the starry sky, and leaned heavily on the staffen middle of a thing she was...kinda growing to love? First...she was gonna get those Ice Hunter's boots and gloves...and then she was gonna find Is'Kah and finally get the skinny on...whatever the hell this was. Carpenter: Alright, Ensign, it's your game...let's play. She started forward. Eager and now armed against whatever was coming next. Is'Kah/Any: RESPONSE -- TAG/TBC -- Lieutenant Commander Kirsty L. Carpenter //\\ Chief of Security & Tactical Starfleet SAR (Marine Rank: Major) //\\ U.S.S. RONIN NCC-34523 ID: E239512QC0 //\\ F.N.S. CONTRIBUTOR (SB118 Forums)

Welcome to the fleet

I just want to point out that I had nothing to do with @Quentin Beck and the red dress

Congratulations. Welcome to the fleet

(( USS Inchon, Near Klingon Border, 2372 )) “Hey, Staff Sergeant, do you think the Klingons will declare war?” asked a young woman with the green top of a Marine while sitting across from a Trill man. “Private, I’m trying to eat my breakfast here,” he dropped his fork on his plate, knowing he wouldn’t have a chance to finish. “Look, Sargeant Slu, the rumor mill says the Federation will go to war. Not if, but when. The Cardassians, Dominion, or the Klingons. There is a lot of latinum on all three at once,” the woman said. Slu ran a hand down his face, “Darcy, you can’t believe everything you hear on the lower decks.” “Come on, you’ve been in for eight years; surely you have your finger on the pulse of the fleet,” Darcy said, folding her hands on the table and leaning forward. “Fine. Let’s just say that tomorrow's training at 0800 will answer what Sta-,” Slu was cut off by the ship going to Red Alert. He stood to look out the viewports, his eyes narrowing as the ship jumped to a high warp. The deck plating started to quiver slightly. “Come on, Darcy, suit up. We’re at war.” “What do you mean?” Darcy asked while they jogged out of the lounge. “We’re near Alpha Leonis. The only reason for going to Alert is if the captain suspects Kli—” the captain’s ship-wide announcement cut him off. “Inchon, as of 0755 Zulu, the Federation is at war with the Klingon Empire. The cowards made their first strike against our outposts along the border. We are en route to assist and, if necessary, defend lives. Inchon, never say die,” the captain ended the announcement. Slu rolled his eyes, “Captain Smith and his wonderful words. We’re at war; we’re going to die a lot.” “The captain thinks this old ship still has life in her,” Darcy commented while opening her combat locker. “She’s over fifty years old. We’ll be dead if anything more than a bird of prey comes after us,” Slu growled, changing into his combat armor. “Ambassador classes are a tank. They can take a hit,” Darcy cheerfully said, latching her boots. “Twenty years ago, when our last refit happened. We’re due for retirement. This was meant to be the ship’s last cruise, but instead, they put us Marines on board,” Slu said. “She’s a troop carrier, not a warship anymore.” The ship shook, knocking the two Marines against the bulkhead. “What was that?” a hint of fear in Darcy’s voice. “Klingon disrupter fire on the aft shields. Come on, if they’re that close, then boarding parties can’t be that far behind. Full space combat setup,” Slu ordered while taking his helmet out of his locker. “Space combat?” Darcy squeaked while shakily putting her helmet on and engaged the locks. Latching his helmet, Slu engaged his microphone, “Plan seventy-eight.” Darcy looked confused, “plan what?” Slu rolled his eyes, “Major Cline, Sargent Slu. Recommend plan seventy-eight.” “I’d rather not confine my Marines like that,” Cline said in his ear. “The first place they will try to board is the low-traffic area in the Engineering hull. They did that in the last war, and I don’t see them changing much since then,” Slu grabbed several blades, a couple of type one phasers, a type two, and his rifle. Affixing them all over his body, he turned to Darcy and made the come-on head move. “Wouldn’t they just blow us up?” Cline asked over comms. “They need the freshest intel. Plan seventy-eight is the best one to stop that,” Slu said. “Fine, I’ll let the captain know, Cline out.” “Are you going to tell me the plan now?” Darcy asked while they ran down the passageways to the aft of the saucer section. “Only if we need to execute it. If you don’t know, then you’re not meant to know,” Slu said. The ship shook from several strikes, sending the pair back to the deck, “Mag boots, Sargent?” Darcy wondered. “Mag boots. Just enough to keep us on the decking,” Slu agreed. The pair finely reached the saucer's rear-view ports. They watched as two ships focused their fire on the port nacelle, trying to weaken it and succeeding. Torpedo after torpedo flew from the aft launchers, the phasers snapping shots off. The ship shook when the aft shields failed because the port nacelle exploded, the starboard one flickering from the sudden imbalance. Blue lights started flashing with a more annoying buzzing sound than Red Alert, sending both Marines into a hyper-alert state. Slu lifted his hand and pointed for Darcy to follow him. They came around a corner with their rifles up to find sparks coming from the wall; however, they couldn’t see the cause. They took cover and aimed. Slu gave a wicked grin, “Major. Execute with fields nighty-nine, one-oh-five, and seventy-seven on my mark.” “Standing by, Sargent,” Cline said. The ship shook again, causing a three-meter by two-meter piece of the hull to fall onto the deck with a loud thud. When five warriors jumped out, Slu shouted, “mark!” Three forcefields appeared while the windows disengaged. The sudden decompression yanked the attackers out of the hull. Several more were pulled out of their ship, killing them instantly. The two Marines held their ground while they waited. “Why are we waiting here?” Darcy whispered. “I only counted nine dead. A Klingon assault team is thirty. The rest are preparing for EVA assault.” “So, we’re safer here?” “Yeah, pretty much,” Slu adjusted his rifle. “Stay sharp, they are coming.” “How do,” Darcy started to ask but closed her mouth when five more jumped out. Their disruptors started firing at the emitters in the Marine’s direction. It only took a few shots to short out the field, causing air to rush past them. Darcy was pulled forward at the waist while Slu fired the second the forcefield fell, killing two before the others could react. With a silent battle cry, the largest Klingon started walking forward, a bat'leth in one hand. The rush of the wind forced him to move slowly. He took his second step when Darcy shot him in the chest, his body crumpling in a heap. A force field snapped behind the two marines, cutting off the suction. Slu stood, his rifle barely pausing to aim while the pair dispatched their attackers. He flashed Darcy with one finger, flashed five, then pulled a grenade from its pouch. He glanced at his partner, who had her grenade in hand. The pair rolled them down the passage, bouncing off the hull plating before his exploded in a bright flash of light, Darcy’s following a second later. The moment the forcefields stopped their sparkle from the shrapnel explosion, the pair rushed forward to the opening in the hull. They paused before leaping into the opening, Slu going high while Darcy went low. They took a moment to take in the pink gore that covered the bulkheads of the Klingon ship. Now that the hold was clear, Slu tapped Darcy’s shoulder. Stepping over the leftover hull, Darcy slowly entered. After clearing the smaller areas, she gave an all-clear signal. Stu entered the attackers' ship, following slowly while covering Darcy’s sweep. The ship shook, Slu snapping his rifle behind him. He frowned, but the captain interrupted him before he could say anything. “All hands abandon ship. The computer core has been blown, with the self-destruct set for five minutes,” Smith said calmly. “Let’s get to our escape pods, Sargent,” Darcy said. “No,” Slu barked. We take this ship. Come on.” Stu closed the inner hatch and pressurized the boarding room. The pair stood next to the cockpit door. He held up three fingers and slowly counted down. The moment he made a fist, Darcy hit the door open button. Slu stepped through, causing one pilot to turn, “how many Federation d-,” he started. The Marine fired two shots, one for each pilot. He pulled one out of the chair while turning to Darcy. His blood ran cold because he had missed that Klingon who had engaged the Private in hand-to-hand combat. The younger Marine held her own, but not for long. Yanking a knife from his belt, Slu let out a snarl while leaping at the Klingon’s back. The warrior turned to the noise source, but it left him open to Darcy’s next attack. She drove her blade into his stomach while Slu’s blade sunk into flesh along the spine. He fell with a crumple. “Get us out of here, Darcy. There should be transporters. I’m going to start beaming any escaping crew I can into the hold,” Slu ordered. “Aye, sir,” Darcy said in a clipped voice. She sat down, and moments later, the ship detached. “Slu, I’m picking up a dozen escape pods already.” “Transporting now,” Slu said. Orange lights appeared in the middle of the hold. “I never thought I’d be happy to see a Marine,” said a man with a blue physician's coat on. “Step aside, Doctor Lang, we have many to rescue,” Slu said. “Behind you,” called out Lang, causing Slu to turn. He saw the last Klingon, one he thought was dead, lunging at Darcy. Snarling, Slu flung himself at the warrior, tackling him. The man rolled, trying to kick the Marine off him. Compensating, Slu slid one hand around the attacker’s arm and grasped his neck. “Federation filth,” the Klingon snarled while pushing himself up with his free hand. Slu tried to keep his target immobilized but couldn’t stop him from twisting around. Instantly, the man had Slu’s hands around his throat. The Klingon grabbed Slu’s forearms, trying to break the grip. Darcy twisted, barking, “Doctor, take over transporting.” She looked helpless to help her sergeant, “The longer we’re here, the more likely we’ll be caught.” “It’s in Klingon. What am I reading here?” Lang demanded while looking at the console. “Tap the ones that say Starfleet,” Darcy said. “Here goes nothing,” Lang said while tapping an icon with one hand and using the other to control the controls. Two people appeared. That worked. Let's see who else is out there.” The warrior had stopped struggling and breathing. Slu took a hand off the Klingon to grab his knife, only for the man’s bloodshot eyes to snap open, grab his knife, and plunge it into the side of Slu’s head. He fell to the side with a thump. Darcy slammed her knife into his chest before he could make another move. She then stabbed it in the man’s second heart to make sure he’d stay dead. “You, take over transporting; I need to help the sergeant,” barked Lang. The Ensign nodded and scrambled over. He knelt while taking his tricorder out. He shook his head, “he’s still alive. Crewman Dan, get over here and help me remove his armor. Don’t touch the helmet.” The crewman staggered to his feet to assist the doctor. An alarm started flashing on the pilot’s console. Darcy turned and said, “Sorry, Doc, we need to go. We’re being questioned by a Klingon ship. They want to know why we’re not attached anymore. I’ve sent a message that we have prisoners for the Chancellor, but if we don’t go now, they will override the video, and then we’ll be dead.” Lang hit the buttons to vent Slu’s suit, which allowed him to free Slu’s helmet from the suit. He then took a laser scalpel out of his coat pocket, lowered its power, and started cutting away Slu’s suit. “Stay here, Private. We’ve only managed to save ten people. We can rescue more people,” Lang pleaded. Moments later, the shuttle shuttered because it was going to warp. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Do what you can for the Sargent. Once out of sensor range, we’ll turn for Star Base Twenty-eight.” “You disobeyed a direct order,” Lang said. “No, sir. I obeyed an order from someone in my direct command, the sergeants,” Darcy said. Lang cut away Slu’s shirt, carefully putting the strips against the wound. He took his coat off and cut it up to provide more bandages. He stood up with a sigh and turned to leave. “You’re going just leave him there?” Darcy demanded. He is brain-dead. I’m only giving him any kind of care because his symbiont is keeping him alive. I’m going to check the others. There is nothing I can do here. Slu has slowed Jarkal’s heart and taken over the rest of the bodily functions. I’m not sure how he’s doing it, but he is. I need to check the others,” Lang said softly. Tears slid down Darcy’s face as she turned back to the control panel. “We’re out of sensor range. Changing course, ETA two hours,” her voice cracked. Lang patted Darcy’s shoulder, “It’s the best we could have done, Private. You did well.” “It doesn’t feel like it,” Darcy said. “Maybe one day it will,” Lang said, heading to the hold to help the injured crewmen. “Maybe it will,” he said to himself.

@Hiro Jones dropping facts like it's hot on @Dekas Asking for help is one of the hardest things to do.

Once more, you beat me to showing @Alieth appreciation for the same quote.

@Alieth is not putting up with Human avoidance of a topic.

I was just putting that in here. It is proof that Vulcan's do, in fact, meddle

Congrats! Welcome to the fleet.

@Alieth has the correct description of @Quentin Beck here.

Congratulations on graduating. Welcome to the fleet.

Congratulations and welcome.

Well, it's happened. @Alieth finely was able to use Oi in a sim. (at least that's what I'm told)